April again, and this hedge,
a tangle of sticks and string
for so long, finds green
optimism, pulled like a
silk hanky from its sleeve.
It’s the breath of seasons,
drawing in, holding, daring
to show delicate green,
swelling in swagger for summer,
till autumn’s tipping point
of panic at overstepping
an imagined Plimsoll line.
Disown these brash displays!
Pull in the sails, suck
life back to the marrow,
present a hard shell,
shelter tender feelings
through another winter.
April again, so long
holding my breath, can I
allow budding love
its surging green confidence?
Verses of Five 
This is nice
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